


How Do You Sleep (When You Lie to Me?)

by Neo (luxnoctre)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Extreme angst, Happy Ending?, Hurt/Comfort, I have a thing for hurting my characters, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage, Open Ending, and it shows, cursing, jongin is soft, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 10:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxnoctre/pseuds/Neo
Summary: Jongdae has always loved Chanyeol, through thick and thin. But sometimes, he doesn't think Chanyeol can say the same back.





	How Do You Sleep (When You Lie to Me?)

**Author's Note:**

> Angst Cookie back with some ChanChen! Thank you so much to the Chat for helping me realify this fic, and then to, of course, V, my muse and the only reason why I still write angst TT
> 
> Real Talk: halfway through his fic, I kinda wanted to give up but pure spite and stubbornness enabled me this finish this mess. 
> 
> So without ado, I hope you enjoy this work of angst Chanchen. Please excuse any English errors (I did not want to edit this, like at all)

Jongdae stays up far later than he should, staring up at the slightly worn plaster of the ceiling, imagining little shapes within the imperfections, and counting the minutes. He checks his bedside clock every so often, eyes sharpening in the darkness to make out the neon numbers. 

11:50 p.m.

He sighs, loud in the silence, and turns over on his side to face the empty space on the bed. The pillow is neatly made, all fluffed up and proper, and the blanket has a triangle folded neatly back on the corner for easy access. But the sheets are cold, the blanket is smooth with untouched fabric, and the pillow has no sign of a head dent. Jongdae rests his left hand on the space beside him, his fingers pinching at the silk sheets as his mouth twists downward. 

On his left hand, is a ring on a certain finger. It’s a pretty thing: a thick silver band with inscriptions inside the curve. Jongdae looks at it for a moment. Even in the darkness, it seems to shine with a faint hope and adoration.

Jongdae looks at it, and abruptly thrusts his hand underneath the blankets, obscuring the glint of silver. He rolls back on his back, anxious and weary, but unable to close his eyes. He looks at the clock once more.

11:58 p.m.

And when the clock strikes midnight, Jongdae hears the sound of a latch unlocking, a door knob turning, and someone’s heavy breathing. He hears something heavy, most likely a briefcase, being dropped on the kitchen counter. Shoes being toed off and pushed into the corner. Someone cursing lowly under their breath when they accidentally ram their hip into a sharp edge.

Jongdae wonders how much longer it will take for his husband to finally learn the layout of their apartment. How much longer it would take for him to  _ care _ . 

Jongdae can see it in his mind’s eye: his tall husband loosening up his tie with a relieved sigh as if all the pressure of his work have been taken off his shoulders with that single piece of fabric. Maybe him opening a cupboard to pull out a glass and pour himself water. Him shuffling over to the bedroom tiredly, but cautiously, as if afraid of waking up Jongdae.

The bedroom door opens, and Jongdae stills immediately. He wills his breathing to slow down, to feige an appearance of sleep. He hears his husband breathing loudly in the doorway, in tandem with Jongdae’s heart, before he shuffles quietly to their bathroom. A switch flipped on makes light pierce through Jongdae’s closed eyelids, and he flinches for a fraction of a second before it’s hidden away by a closed door. 

He opens one eye slowly, to look at the bathroom where he knows his husband is mostly likely doing his night routine. Brushing his teeth, washing his face. And showering to rid himself of his day and night activities. 

What night activities? Jongdae wonders, What activities could you have that you possibly need to shower, to wash the stench away? 

Sure enough, there’s the sound of running water and Jongdae bites his lip in confusion. His body itches with an urge to get up, walk over to the bathroom, and ask his husband why he came home so late. But Jongdae doesn’t move a muscle. He lies there, on his too big, too cold bed, in silence with an aching heart and treacherous thoughts. 

Trust, they always used to say, trust is important in a relationship. Trust in a partner, in a feeling, in the idea that a bond will never break.

Where did my trust go? Jongdae asks himself, for a number of times that he can no longer count on his fingers. 

The running water turns off a few minutes later, and a lumbering damp figure emerges from the bathroom. Jongdae is already faking a deep slumber, lips parted slightly to breathe and eyelashes no longer fluttering. He can feel the weight of his husband’s gaze upon him, and a part of Jongdae wills his husband to do something. Anything. A hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, a good night kiss, even a small touch on the cheek. 

He can feel the weight of his husband’s gaze, until the bed dips under a new weight, and his husband settles himself under the covers. Jongdae knows he uses the folded triangle to puff up the blanket over himself and that he pats the pillow once to test its fluffiness. He knows because his husband is a man of habit.

And it was a habit for him to touch Jongdae on the cheek with gentle fingers and whisper a soft “good night”. 

Once his husband settles and there’s an air of tiredness, Jongdae risks to turn his head to face the other side. He stares at his husband’s hunched back, eyes sorrowful and heart heavy. 

What changed? Jongdae wonders. What made him like this?

And even though there’s a fragrance of fruits and soap, Jongdae can still smell the stench of alcohol, some sort of generic perfume, and another odor that he doesn’t even want to think about. 

Jongdae bites his lip, hard enough to break the skin, and turns back over before his eyes start to water with overdue tears. Underneath the blanket, he fiddles with his ring carefully, twisting the band round and round his finger. 

Jongdae falls in a restless sleep, his ring still gleaming, but a little dimmer than usual. 

\----

The next morning, Jongdae wakes up to the sound of snoring and chirping. He glances over to see his husband still deep in his dreams, so Jongdae hovers a hand above his head, as if to caress his face. But a second later, Jongdae drops his hand and turns away. He heads to the bathroom quickly, not sparing a glance at his husband’s sleeping face. He prepares for his day efficiently, humming quietly under his breath as he buttons up his shirt and pulls on his slacks. 

His husband is still snoring, albeit a little softer, when Jongdae emerges from the bedroom and heads to the kitchen. He sees a sleek briefcase on the counter that he settles beside the dining table, before he opens the fridge and pulls out ingredients for an omelet. The remnants of an uneaten dinner are cast away into the trash can and an unwashed plate with crumbs sticking on balances precariously in the sink. 

Jongdae spares these no mind, already too used to the sight. The only effect is a little sink in his chest that Jongdae ignores in favor of turning on the stove. He cooks breakfast for two: an omelet for him and a sunny side egg for his husband. A little pepper here and there, a bit of butter and milk and Jongdae is done. He turns on the coffee machine as he’s setting the food out on china plates. From the bedroom, he hears his husband waking up and getting dressed. 

There was a time where Jongdae would help him into his shirt, fix his tie and smoothen his blazer. But now Jongdae can’t even look at his husband’s body in fear of what he might find. 

When his husband walks into the kitchen minutes later, looking sharp in his suit, Jongdae flashes a well-practiced easy smile. 

“Good morning, Chanyeol.” Jongdae’s voice is light and betrays no sense of the turmoil inside his chest. 

“Morning, Jongdae,” Chanyeol responds. In contrast, his voice is hoarse and gruff. Chanyeol smiles as well, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s gone the minute Chanyeol sits down at the table. 

“Here’s your coffee,” Jongdae says sliding the cup over to him. He sits opposite from Chanyeol and watches his husband take a tentative sip of the drink, to gauge the heat, before gulping it down. Chanyeol catches his gaze and something in him stiffens slightly.

“Is something wrong?” Chanyeol seems hesitant and Jongdae wants to laugh at the question. 

Is something wrong? Jongdae muses. I’m sure you know that better than I do. 

But Jongdae just shakes his head and smiles once more. “Can I not look at the man I love?” Jongdae asks serenely. 

Jongdae notices with a pain how his words make Chanyeol stiffen even more, and make him advert his gaze. Jongdae takes pity on his discomfort and looks away to finish his meal. They eat in silence, with the sound of clinking cutlery and sips taking up the void of light banter and sweet kisses. 

Chanyeol finishes first, with a few hasty bites, and stands up to clean his plate. “I’ll be coming home late today,” he informs Jongdae in a way that leaves no room for argument. Before, Jongdae may have asked why but now he offers a hum of acknowledgement. Chanyeol picks up his briefcase and toes on his shoes before hesitating. 

Jongdae looks up and cocks his head. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jongdae asks with an underlying tone of curiosity. He doesn’t mean to sound passive aggressive, but he can’t help it. It’s another habit of theirs. One he would have hoped Chanyeol hasn’t forgotten so soon. Chanyeol walks up to him, pauses once more, before kissing Jongdae on the cheek. 

“Have a good day at work,” Chanyeol says with another small smile, before he’s turning around and securely closing the door. 

Jongdae watches him go with pursed lips, and stands up to throw the rest of his breakfast away, his appetite suddenly gone. 

It was a habit for a good morning kiss, but one on the lips. Not on the cheek where Jongdae can practically feel some sort of discomfort and guilt radiating from Chanyeol. It’s not a habit for cold smiles and weary eyes. 

Jongdae stops in his tracks as a sudden thought comes to him. 

Is he also just a habit?

He has to lay a hand on the kitchen counter to stop himself from sitting down on shaky legs. Jongdae takes a deep breath, willing away those thoughts in favor of work. 

Now is not the time for thoughts like those. Not yet.

——

Jongdae is grateful for his work because it gives him an ample distraction from the troubles his reality. He loves his students, most of them anyways. He loves to hear them sing and cheer, to clap their hands or play pretend instruments. They’re all delightful musicians, though Jongdae supposes that is granted considering he works at one of the prestigious music academies. 

Regardless, every day brings him a new little fond feeling of joy. Today it’s because one of his students break above his previous range, and manages to scale a semitone higher than normal. The class cheers with pride and Jongdae gives the student a bright smile and a pat on the back. Today it’s because a few of his students stay behind to chatter animatedly with Jongdae about their lives. Someone is dating his long time friend and Jongdae can’t resist a smile.

Love, how precious it is in its innocent forms.

Jongdae’s thoughts dwell on his class, even as he’s making his way through the hallways towards the teacher’s lounge. He knocks smartly on the door, before pushing it open with a shoulder. 

“Morning, everyone!” Jongdae greets cheerfully as he waves. 

“Jongdae!”

He smiles at the sound of his voice being called and promptly sits beside the caller. 

“Hey Baek,” Jongdae says, snatching a bite of his friend’s muffin. 

Baekhyun, an energetic vocal coach with soft pink hair, turns towards Jongdae with a smile. But the look is dropped in favor of a frown as Baekhyun grasps Jongdae’s cheeks with firm hands and examines him. Jongdae tried to retract himself away, but Baekhyun holds firm.

“You barely slept last night,” Baekhyun comments with an air of disapproval. “And you’re worried over something. Why?”

Jongdae can’t surprise the groan at Baekhyun’s on spot analysis. Leave it to the best friend to figure out exactly what’s wrong, while his husband is floundering in the dark.

“Chanyeol came home late again,” Jongdae admits quietly, to not attract attention. “The same thing. And he wasn’t acting like himself this morning.”

Baekhyun tsks loudly before he’s pulling Jongdae for a tight hug. “I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” Baekhyun murmurs by Jongdae’s ear. He pulls away to a distraught Jongdae. “You’re hurting so much, and what for?”

Jongdae shrugs, resigned and gloomy. “I just-“ he sighs and rubs his face wearily with his left hand. “I just have this hope that it will get better, you know? I don’t want to give anything up.”

“It’s been going on for too long now,” Baekhyun tells him gently, like a mother soothing a child. “You need to do something about it, before something worse happens.”

Baekhyun is right, he always is. Jongdae knows this so he gives his friend a nod and a quiet mumble of assurance.

But his heart knows, and Baekhyun does too, that Jongdae will go home and wait for Chanyeol like every other day. With his clenching chest and watery eyes. 

Because Jongdae is scared of change, and he’s scared of losing the one constant in his life.

—-

Jongdae knows who it is. Who Chanyeol is with. A rising female singer, with too-full-to-be-real lips and a body straight out of a plastic surgeon’s catalogue. A crooning voice whispering scandalous words that would make a Bible burn. Sharp eyes and long locks.

Jongdae knows who it is because he saw her. Saw them together when his colleagues went for drinks two months ago.

He was in the middle of laughing at a joke, until he saw them together at a table, hands running over each other and faces too close. Something inside Jongdae broke that day. And it’s hanging on by a loose thread. 

Baekhyun knows because one day Jongdae couldn’t take the strain and he fled to the arms of his best friend, sobbing uncontrollably and mumbling sorrows. Something inside Baekhyun hardened that day as he swore to make sure Jongdae stays sane as his husband of four years frisks with other people.

Sometimes Jongdae wonders what Chanyeol saw in her that isn’t in him. Was it the body? The womanly face? The appendages and parts that Jongdae can’t offer? He knows it’s not the voice nor the smile. Nor the personality and kindness. 

He wonders if Chanyeol fell prey to the woman’s seducing, or if Chanyeol gladly took the bait and fell into a trap of lust.

Jongdae thinks all these things, every time Chanyeol comes home late from work heaving and aloof. When he slides under the covers with the air of a guilty criminal, shampoo unable to hide his sins. When, on the weekends, he doesn’t look Jongdae in the eye and speaks only when necessary. 

And most of all, when Jongdae kisses him and he can’t find the heart to even smile back.

\----

Jongdae knows he’s a kind person. He’s heard it all his life, from his friends, his family, and his students. He’s selfless, always willing to put others before him.

Baekhyun calls it both a blessing, and a curse. “You’re too nice,” Baekhyun told him one day, “You let others take advantage of you.” 

Jongdae expressly disagrees with him, time and time again, citing that he just doesn’t want to cause any conflicts. Let him do what he can to make sure others are happy. Even if it means sacrificing a little of himself every time. 

But it’s when he sees Chanyeol smiling at his phone instead of at Jongdae, that he wonders exactly how selfless he can be. 

Their game of push-and-pull, cat-and-mouse, seeing how long it takes until one of them breaks, continues for a couple more weeks. Each day has Jongdae feeling worse and worse. The sinking feeling in his stomach and the pinching in his heart becomes second nature and Jongdae learns to stuff down his pain under a mask of small smiles and curled eyes. He stops asking Chanyeol for their habitual morning kiss, resigning to a nod of acknowledgement and a tight lipped smile. 

Jongdae knows he’s walking on a thin line, like an acrobat in a circus show with no safety net. But he doesn’t have the heart, nor the emotions, to take in any further. He’s scared. Frightened of confrontation. Of talking to Chanyeol about the more than obvious affair and spilled out his pain like a flood of sorrow. There’s an irrational hope within him that maybe things will get better. Maybe something will shift and Chanyeol,  _ his  _ Chanyeol, will return to him.

It isn’t an irrational hope for nothing.

\----

It’s on a cloudy night when it happens. Cold and still, as if the sky is holding its breath for an upcoming storm. 

Jongdae is out with some of his friends: Yixing, Yifan, and Baekhyun. They’re at a bar for no reason except to let loose the tension and shake off their stress. For Jongdae, it gives a false sense of contentment before he slinks back home to his empty bed. 

They drink and laugh, smiles coming naturally. Jongdae takes one shot too many and Baekhyun passes him a cup of water knowingly. Yixing and Yifan make lovesick eyes to each other, their flirting getting increasingly and increasingly obvious until Baekhyun has enough and tells them to make out or go home.

Jongdae lets out a loud peal of laughter as Yixing holds Yifan’s cheeks and kisses him roughly not a second later. 

He loses track of the time, too caught up in the atmosphere. It’s been such a long time since Jongdae has felt such happiness, and a part of him doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay, drowning his reality in alcohol and greasy foods and smiling in the comfort of his friends. 

But when he looks at his phone, some sober sense tells him that he ought to head back soon. So with a bittersweet smile, Jongdae bids goodbye and goodnight to his friends. Baekhyun offers to walk him home, but Jongdae waves him off in favor of a taxi. He gives Baekhyun a tight hug, before walking out of the bar on light steps.

The cold air does good to purge his senses of the buzzing and humming. Jongdae looks up at the barely visible moon as he rubs his hands and pulls his jacket closer around himself. Luckily, there’s plenty of taxis willing to make a little extra and Jongdae has no trouble directing one in the direction of his home. 

He doesn’t notice the charged atmosphere around him as he pays the driver graciously and steps out. When Jongdae opens the door, he’s met with a surprise.

Chanyeol is home.

Early. Although Jongdae supposes that at some point, it would have been on time.

But he’s home, sitting on the couch and staring at Jongdae with narrowed eyes. Jongdae gives him a small smile before taking off his shoes and jacket slowly.

“Where were you?”

Chanyeol’s irritated tone has Jongdae frowning slightly as he walks to the kitchen. “Out,” Jongdae replies simply before draining a glass of water.

“With who?” The irritation switches to suspicion, and something ugly twists in Jongdae’s chest. He puts down his glass and stares at Chanyeol, dead in the eye.

“With friends,” he says carefully, gauging Chanyeol’s reaction. “We were just out and I lost track of time.”

“And you didn’t call?” Chanyeol accuses him, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping impatiently. “You didn’t let me know about this?”

The ugly thing in Jongdae’s chest turns into a green monster, and Jongdae can’t stop himself from shaking out of anger and confusion.

“Why do I need to tell you everything I do?” Jongdae shoots back. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, it was just with friends.”

Chanyeol looks a bit taken aback at Jongdae’s elevated voice, but he doesn’t back down as he too becomes agitated. “I was waiting here for so long,” Chanyeol says exasperatedly. “Next time, let me know when you’re going out and when you’re coming home. You should know this.”

The monster roars. And something inside Jongdae snaps.

“I don’t know if you have the fucking right to say that,” Jongdae practically yells. Chanyeol blinks rapidly in confusion before his features harden.

“What the hell did you say?”

“I said,” Jongdae takes a deep breath to steady himself, his emotions finally forcing themselves outward. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do, when you don’t even fucking do it yourself.”

“Jongdae.” Chanyeol stands up from the couch, mouth tight and eyes cold. “How da-“

“No.” Jongdae cuts himself and stalks forward, a finger pointing at Chanyeol. “I’ve had enough.” His hand is shaking out of suppressed feelings and Jongdae can barely breath. “I know what’s going on, Chanyeol. I know you’ve been cheating.”

Jongdae’s accusation takes the fight out of his husband, and Chanyeol can only stand and stare as Jongdae forced back a sob. 

“Y-you know?” Chanyeol stammers. He takes a step back and Jongdae watches in painful satisfaction how his face darkens with guilt and surprise.

“I’ve known for two goddamn months now.” The words pour from Jongdae’s mouth like a waterfall as he lets loose every single horrible and disgusting feeling inside of him. Every sentence drains Jongdae of the poison he’s been bottling up for so long. “I’ve seen you two together, and I know she’s why you’ve been coming home so late. Why you’ve been acting weird every single day.”

Jongdae is raving now, his hands clenching at his side as he stares down Chanyeol, who seems to shrinking under the weight of Jongdae’s words. Jongdae has tears in his eyes, but he can’t bother to wipe them away.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae exclaims with a sob. “I can’t believe my  _ husband  _ has been cheating on me and now has the nerve to lecture  _ me  _ about trust.”

Chanyeol takes Jongdae’s pause for breath as an opportunity. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He rushes out.

“Say anything?” Jongdae laughs incredulously. “We’ve known each other for practically our whole lives. I thought I could trust you, that you would come back. What the hell am I suppose to say?”

Chanyeol stays silent. And Jongdae takes it a sign to continue.

“I love you, Chanyeol.” Jongdae is outright crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably. His husband shifts from foot to foot with obvious discomfort and guilt at the sight. “Fuck it, I  _ still  _ love you, even despite the fact you don’t anymore.”

“No, Jongdae, I-“ Chanyeol takes a step forward with hands outstretched but Jongdae silences him with a step away. Jongdae clasps his hands over his mouth in an effort to control his heaving gasps. Chanyeol is speechless, torn at the seams as he watches Jongdae sob.

“I-I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says finally. “Please, Jongdae, I’m so sorry.”

Those words, the phrase that Jongdae has been waiting to hear for so long, snaps Jongdae out of his haze of sorrow. He stares up at his husband, his former lover, with side eyes. He takes in Chanyeol’s distraught appearance, and the sacrificing part of Jongdae wants him to let go and forgive.

But the other part, the self protecting part that he’s been hiding away, tells Jongdae not to stop.

“I would hope you’re sorry,” Jongdae retorts, his sadness turning into daunting anger. The room is all too stifling with emotions and Jongdae can barely breathe. He storms back to the door, grabbing his jacket and throwing on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol demands, a little desperately, as he makes to hold Jongdae back. But Jongdae wrenches his arm out of Chanyeol’s hold and stares him down, one hand on the door.

“I’m leaving,” Jongdae tells him with an air of finality. “I can’t, I can’t do this anymore. I hope she was worth it, Chanyeol.” 

Jongdae throws open the door, and makes to sprint out of it. But he turns once last time, his eyes still wet but his usually smiling lips hard and cold. 

“I’m done. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Before Chanyeol has a chance to recover or hold him back, Jongdae sprints out of the door, away from his home and husband, into the dark night.

\---

Jongdae is lucky that the taxi driver from earlier is still in front of the apartment, counting the bills from the day. He looks up with barely concealed surprise at Jongdae knocking on his window, tears streaming down his face. But the driver opens the door wordlessly, and kindly asks Jongdae where he would like to go.

Jongdae doesn’t hesitate as he speaks an address. And as the car speeds away, Jongdae doesn’t glance back at his home to see a distraught Chanyeol step out of the door.

He thanks the driver as kindly as he can, giving him an extra tip for his service, before the taxi drives off. Jongdae takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and walks up to the door.

Baekhyun opens it not a second later, a wide smile on his face. But the expression vanishes in an instance at the sight of Jongdae, and his friend ushers him into the house gently. He didn’t speak as he leads Jongdae to sit on his couch, and wraps a fluffy blanket around Jongdae’s shivering shoulders. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Baekhyun gently asks Jongdae what happened.

Jongdae takes it as a sign, and gushes forth everything that happened between him and Chanyeol. His shoulders and chest shake with sobs as he pours forth his distress. Baekhyun, bless his heart, listens with all the sympathy and sorrow of a best friend. It’s when Jongdae finishes his soliloquy with a gulp that Baekhyun takes him in his arms and hugs him tightly. 

“It’s ok,” Baekhyun tells him gently, patting him on the head. “It’s over now.”

“But I don’t want it to be over,” Jongdae wails, his cries muffled by the front of Baekhyun’s sweatshirt. “I still love him so much and I fucking hate it!” 

Baekhyun sighs and presses Jongdae’s head closer to his chest. There isn’t much for him to say. There’s nothing that could comfort and ameliorate the turmoil in Jongdae’s heart. He’s broken into a thousand tiny pieces that only shatter into fine dust with every passing day. So Baekhyun can only offer him a safe place to stay, as Jongdae nurses his wounded heart and painful love. 

After Baekhyun lays him gently in a guest bed and he pulls the covers over his head, Jongdae clutches at his left hand, holding the ring to his lips and kissing the cool metal. The bond of promise now serves as a sore reminder of the tumultuous love, but Jongdae has no strength nor courage to take it off. He lies there, motionless in bed, crying his sorrow out as he grasps at a fluttering hope that everything will be resolved. 

\----

His refuge of peace lasts for only a day before Chanyeol finds him. 

Jongdae knows it’s inevitable; Chanyeol knows how close he is with Baekhyun so it takes no effort in realizing that Jongdae would flee to his house. 

But that doesn’t mean Jongdae is any more prepared for the doorbell ringing, and a loud voice outside calling, “Jongdae! Please, open up!”

Baekhyun is by the door in an instance, rolling up the shutters by the window so he can flip Chanyeol off with a grimace. “You better leave,” Baekhyun warns him. Chanyeol frowns at the sight, but resumes his knocking. “He doesn’t want to see you.” 

“Let him tell me that,” Chanyeol says indignantly. His expression softens and he looks back at Baekhyun with large puppy eyes that never fail to crack Jongdae’s resolve. “Please, I just want to talk to him.” 

Baekhyun huffs, but glances back at Jongdae as if asking what he wants to do. Jongdae bites his lip, mind torn between opening the door and calling his brother to save him. But he glances at his wedding ring, seeing the lackluster metal on his finger as if taunting him of his broken vows, and Jongdae makes up his mind. 

“Distract him,” Jongdae whispers to Baekhyun, as he pulls out his phone and types a few hurried messages. His brother responds quickly, telling him get ready as he’ll arrive in a few minutes. Baekhyun nods, a determined glint in his eye, and gestures Jongdae to hide in the back corridor. 

“Fine, asshole, I’ll let you in,” Baekhyun announces, too loud and sarcastic to be genuine, but Chanyeol pauses in his knocking anyways. Once Jongdae is hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Baekhyun opens the door and an anxious Chanyeol bounds in. 

“Where is he?” Chanyeol demands, desperation in every word. The sorrow evident in Chanyeol’s face makes Jongdae want to step out from his hiding spot, but self-preservation and grief keeps him rooted. 

“He’s sleeping.” Baekhyun lies much better than Jongdae ever could. “Although I’m sure you woke him up, storming in here like a blind bull.” He jams his thumb in the general direction of a room, and Chanyeol scurries there in an instance. Jongdae sends a silent prayer that his brother will arrive before Chanyeol discovers the ploy.

He waits a heart pounding minute until he receives a message, urging him to step out of the house. Jongdae emerges from his spot, ready to run out of the house but in that moment, Chanyeol pops out from a room, mouth open as if to call Baekhyun.

They lock eyes, and Jongdae bolts with the air of someone fleeing for his life. Chanyeol wastes no time, running after Jongdae with a hand outstretched. 

“Jongdae!” Chanyeol yells, “Wait, just hold on!” 

Jongdae pretends not to hear him as he skids to a stop in front of his brother’s car, throws open the door, and slams it shut right before Chanyeol is slamming his hands on the metal frame. 

“Can we please talk?” Chanyeol pleads. Jongdae can see his eyes watering ever so slightly, and it tugs at his heart. 

Jongdae gives him a silent, sorrowful look in return, his eyes communicating what his voice has always failed to say. “I can’t,” Jongdae whispers. His voice is muffled by the car but Chanyeol gets the message, considering how he steps half a step back. “Not right now, please. Just leave me alone.” 

Jongdae taps his brother’s arm, and the car speeds off, once more, leaving Chanyeol behind.

Safe from his husband, Jongdae leans his head back and releases a deep breath. 

“Are you alright?” His brother asks gently, soft brown eyes searching Jongdae’s with gentle love.

“Yeah.” Jongdae tries to muster up a smile but his brother isn’t fooled. “Really, Jongin, I’ll be ok.” 

Jongin looks like he wants to push the topic further, but the sad look in Jongdae’s eyes makes him purse his lips in frustration. Jongdae squashes the guilt over his brother’s worries by looking away towards the window. The landscape speeds by until Jongin pulls to a lazy halt in front of an apartment complex.

“Come on,” Jongin says, gesturing Jongdae out of the car. “I still have some of your stuff around.” 

The brothers walk up the complex’s stairs until they halt in front of a wooden door with a smudged gold plaque detailing the number. With a jingle of his keys, Jongin opens the door and pushes it open with one shoulder. Jongdae follows him in wordlessly, already familiar with the layout of the home. 

“You know where to take a shower,” Jongin tells him, stripping off his coat and hanging up on a rack. “Take your time, I’ll cook some food for us.” He ushers Jongdae into the spare bedroom, where a change of clothes has already been laid out, before heading to the kitchen.

Jongdae takes notice of the clothes Jongin chose; a pair of black sweats and a bright purple hoodie with the words “Free Bird” embezzled on the front. The piece of clothing beckons forth a memory of how exactly Jongdae received the sweatshirt in the first place, and he unconsciously bites his lip at the thought. But he has no right to be picky, after all, none of Jongin’s clothes will fit Jongdae too well. So he picks up the outfit and heads to the bathroom, grateful to be able to wash the grime and sorrows of the day away.

When he emerges, clean and fruity smelling, he walks to the kitchen to see Jongin deftly plating spaghetti and meatballs on two china plates. As a bachelor, Jongin only knows how to cook a few basic dishes, but at least he has mastered them to the point where Jongdae will gladly let Jongin take over the meal. 

Jongdae eats ravenously, having skipped one or two meals back at Baekhyun’s place. Jongin wordlessly scoops more noodles into Jongdae’s bowl, and his brother gives him a kind smile. But Jongdae knows his brother is just aching to question Jongdae about everything that has happened. He feels bad for not revealing the whole truth to Jongin, out of the consideration not to make his brother worry. 

However, his thoughts are confirmed when Jongin puts down his chopsticks and gives him a pointed state. “Hyung,” Jongin starts, and Jongdae shoves a meatball in his mouth as an excuse not to talk. “I know this is hard, but can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Can it wait?” Jongdae’s response is muffled around the mouthful of food, but to his disappointment, Jongin shakes his head.

“You can’t keep running from this.” As much as Jongdae hates Jongin’s statement, he knows he’s right. 

So with a small sigh, Jongdae puts down his utensils and leans his head on his hand. “Don’t get too mad,” Jongdae warns him first. Jongin reaches over and pats Jongdae’s hand comfortingly, and Jongdae takes it as a sign to start. 

He tells Jongin everything; start from the beginning. It’s so easy to talk to his brother, because Jongdae knows that Jongin will only do his best to comfort him. He tells him how he first discovered Chanyeol at the bar, the lack of affection, the cold touches, and the late nights. He tears up in the middle of talking about how Chanyeol stopped looking him in the eye, or smiling back.

Jongdae pours out all the insecurities and fears he’s been feeling for months. How his heart is so broken by the betrayal of trust that Jongdae doesn’t even know what to do anymore. He’s given so much up for Chanyeol’s happiness that he doesn’t know if there’s any left for him. And he tells Jongin about how, despite the grief in his chest, he still loves his husband so much that it pains him.

Jongin, to his credit, doesn’t speak through Jongdae’s entire story. He just gazes Jongdae with the same calm, sympathetic expression. When Jongdae launches on his argument with Chanyeol, Jongin’s expression turns cold and hard as his grip tightens on his chopsticks. But he doesn’t speak, just listening to Jongdae’s every word attentively. When Jongdae does finish, Jongin squeezes his hand gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jongdae says, sniffling. He wipes his tears away on the back of his hand and sadly smiles. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I know, but-” Jongin hesitates briefly. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, and that I couldn’t do more to help.” Jongin has never been the best at expressing his emotions; ever since they were little, Jongdae has taken the role of interpreter upon himself. But when they’re alone, just the two of them, Jongdae finds Jongin’s small pauses and little stammers rather endearing. 

“It’s alright.” Jongdae smiles, a little brighter this time. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Jongin nods, and pauses. He bites his plump bottom lip timidly, a habit that seems to run in their family. Jongdae can tell he has something more to say, so he sits patiently. 

“W-do you want a divorce?” Jongin stammers in his awkwardness, not wanting to make his brother too uncomfortable. 

Jongdae winces at the question, and simply shrugs. “I honestly don’t know,” he confesses. “I know it would be a good idea, given what happened but...” He trails off slowly.

“You still love him.”

Jongdae hesitates, but nods solemnly. 

“I don’t want to give him up yet, even though it hurts so much.”

Jongin is silently after that, only looking at Jongdae with soft eyes as his hand rubs small circles on Jongdae’s palm. “Take as much time as you need,” Jongin finally says, letting go of Jongdae’s hand and standing up. “It’s a big decision.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae responds, looking downwards. “Thanks.” His lackluster response has Jongin frowning once more, but a phone call had his brother apologizing and leaving Jongdae alone in the kitchen.

Jongdae pulls his own phone out of his pocket, and sees the list of notifications popping up on his screen. They’re mostly from Baekhyun, telling him how Chanyeol wasn’t happy and demanded to know where Jongin lives. But Baekhyun the ever stubborn friend pointedly tells Chanyeol to screw himself over before Baekhyun reveals anything. 

He laughs after reading his friend’s messages, but then he scrolls down and his smile vanished. He hasn’t blocked Chanyeol’s number yet, only muting all notifications. So Jongdae is reading all the messages and missed calls from his husband. They all say the same thing: anxiety and desperation to somehow talk to Jongdae and explain everything.

Jongdae doesn’t need an explanation, he just wants his husband back.

With another thought, he swipes the screen clear of boxes before placing his phone on the bedside table. He wraps the covers around his body like a tight cocoon of soft cotton, and buries his head deep under. He has a heavy feeling in his chest, weighing him down and pulling him away. It’s like a weight of a thousand bricks, falling upon his shoulders and crushing him. 

His only thoughts are on Chanyeol. What is he doing? Is he still at home, waiting for Jongdae? Or is he at the bar, flirting with the woman and neglecting his phone? 

Does he still love Jongdae?

Jongdae resists the strong urge to grab his phone and call his husband, to demand answers to these questions himself. Instead, he lies there, shivering despite the warmth of the blanket. His questions and worries burn a hole in his mind like a lit torch. Alone in the night, he has a lot of time to think about everything that’s happened. 

Jongin’s question swims through his mind. A divorce? Is Jongdae ready to give up his one and only love, despite the obvious grief Chanyeol has caused him?

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that yet. His heart is fragile from countless beatings, filled with cracks and splinters. Jongdae doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he looks down and notices the dark splotches on the sheets. 

Jongdae knows that Baekhyun, and Jongin, would most likely say. Get a divorce, there’s no point in salvaging the marriage. There’s nothing that can fix the broken trust from cheating. 

But regardless, Jongdae still feels that hopeful, but painful, heart flutter at the mention of Chanyeol. 

He’s not ready to give up anything.

Jongdae has never felt more overwhelmingly alone. And abandoned. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night.

——

Jongin apologizes countless times in the morning. Unfortunately, his work requires him to check in every day at the office, so he has no choice but to leave Jongdae alone.

Jongdae waves him off easily, telling him not to worry and to work hard. He will just stay at home, having called in a vacation day and trusting Baekhyun to care for his class.

His brother hesitates briefly, clearly reluctant to leave, but a kind smile from Jongdae has Jongin waving goodbye and driving away.

Alone, Jongdae pulls up the laptop Jongin left behind, and browses through various news sites to pass the time. He specifically stays away from any social media platforms, not willing to see what his peers are up to while he’s wallowing in failed love and grief. 

When he gets hungry, Jongdae opens up the cupboards and groans quietly. As expected, Jongin has very little ingredients, but Jongdae is in no rush to step outside his little escape. So he rolls up his sleeves and decides to cook dinner, as a thank you to his brother.

While the soup is stewing, Jongdae plops down on the couch, boredom finally creeping in his mind. He’s been trying to busy himself, so his mind doesn’t wander to other things. Jongdae turns on the T.V. in an effort to distract himself from any thoughts, anxious to sink into some sort of mindless state.

When Jongin comes him, only a few hours later, Jongdae is carefully stirring the broth and singing quietly.

“I’m home!” Jongin calls out, taking off his shoes and setting them in his cabinet. “That smells good, hyung.”

“Welcome back,” Jongdae responds cheerful, a sense of nostalgia settling in his heart. He misses little greetings like this. “I made miso soup, since you barely have anything in your pantry.”

Jongin smiles apologetic as he creeps into the kitchen. He nabs a spoon to taste test the soup, but Jongdae swats him.

“Go take a shower,” Jongdae tells him, pointing his spoon in the direction of the bathroom. “You smell like sweat and too much cologne.” Jongin mumbles something about sensitive older brothers, but heads off anyways.

Dinner is a relatively cheerful affair, with Jongin enthusiastically regaling Jongdae with updates from his social life and tales from work. Jongdae can tell his brother is purposely trying to distract him from his gloomy mood, and he’s grateful for the attention. 

“And I told him, that if you’re going to try to pick someone up at the bar,” Jongin continues, spooning soft tofu into his mouth. He swallows hurriedly, nearly choking in the process and Jongdae chuckles. It’s rare to see Jongin talk so much, and so passionately. “That you at least have to dress like you belong in this century.”

“And what did he say?”

“He winked and asked if I could give him a few tips.” Jongin’s exaggerated shudder at the memory has Jongdae chuckling. His brother grins at the sight, pleased that he is able to cheer Jongdae up, albeit briefly.

Jongdae insists on cleaning up the meal and doing the dishes, so Jongin walks to his bedroom to change out of his work clothes and shower. As Jongdae is singing loudly in the kitchen, Jongin feels his phone vibrate with an incoming call. 

It’s an unknown caller, so Jongin hovers over the reject button. But a small voice in his brain nags at him to answer just in case. He swipes the green answer, and holds the phone up to his ear as he strips off his clothes.

“Hello?”

“Is this Jongin?”

Jongin nearly drops his phone at the unexpected familiar deep voice. He fumbles with it briefly, looking around in alarm, before whispering at his phone.

“Chanyeol? How did you get my number?” 

“I asked your parents for it.”

“Oh.” Jongin frowns momentarily, and remembers that he has to be made at his brother’s husband. “I should hang up on you for treating hyung so horribly.” 

“Please don’t!” The desperation in Chanyeol’s voice has Jongin pausing before he can press the red button. “I need to talk to him.”

“No. Way.” Jongin emphasizes every word as loudly as he can without attracting Jongdae’s attention. “Why should I let you do that? What if you just hurt him even more?”

“Because I’m sorry, and I need to explain and apologize for everything.” 

“Apologies aren’t going to fix your broken marriage, Chanyeol hyung.” 

Jongin’s brutally honest words has Chanyeol pausing on the other side, but he starts to speak in a softer, more passionate voice. “I know it won’t, but he deserves at least this much, after what I did to him. I fucked up, horribly, and your brother doesn’t deserve that.” 

There’s another pause as Jongin thinks long and hard. He looks over at the kitchen, where Jongdae is still singing happily, but there’s a melancholy tone to the cheerfulness that makes Jongin’s heart ache. His brother is hurting, and Jongin is speaking to the man who did it.

But he’s also talking to the one who could fix it. 

And for Jongin, the only thing he wants most in the world is for his brother to smile happily again. 

“I’ll be at work tomorrow from nine to three,” Jongin says hurriedly. Chanyeol makes a small noise of understanding as Jongin continues. “I’ll text you my address, but he’ll have to let you in.” 

“Thank you so much, Jongin,” Chanyeol says gratefully, “I swear, you won’t regret this.”

“Take good care of my brother, Chanyeol hyung,” Jongin says with an air of finality. He hangs the call up, and texts a quick message out to Chanyeol, before he shoves his phone in his pocket. He takes one last look at Jongdae, praying he made the right choice. 

“I hope you can be happy again, hyung,” Jongin whispers. 

\----

Jongdae can’t help but have the slightest suspicion that something unexpected is going to happen. The feeling follows him like a storm cloud, buzzing with electricity, through the day. It starts when Jongin can barely look him in the eye as he leaves for work. He smiles nervously at Jongdae, before waving a quick goodbye and bolting out of the door. Jongdae is left alone in the house, confused and filled with an odd anticipation.

The buzzing in his head grows in intensity until roughly around noon, he hears a knock on the door. He pauses the T.V. in confusion, eyes narrowing at the door. Jongdae distinctly remembers Jongin telling him that he has work till three. 

_ Maybe he forgot his keys?  _ Jongdae wonders as he stands up from the couch and walks to the door. 

His carelessness causes him not to check who's knocking, and Jongdae opens the door with a scolding on his tongue. But it’s not Jongin standing in front of him.

It’s Chanyeol.

The two stare at each other, Jongdae in shock and Chanyeol in nervousness. 

“Hi-” Chanyeol starts to say, before Jongdae slams the door in his face. Unfortunately, Chanyeol manages to hold the door open with a strong arm, pushing it back out. “Ok, please Jongdae, can we talk?” Chanyeol says as he struggles to force the door. He manages to slip through the crack and into Jongin’s home.

“I don’t want to,” Jongdae responds a little childishly. When Chanyeol holds his hands, Jongdae takes a few long steps backwards, crossing his arms over his chest. “How did you even find me?”

“Jongin told me.”

“Jongin that little soft traitor,” Jongdae grumbles to himself. Of course his brother will take it in his own hands to resolve Jongdae’s broken heart. Jongin has always been the softer brother. 

But the damage has been done, and now Jongdae is stuck in a very awkward conversation. He throws up every mental defense he has, ignoring the aching feeling in his heart at the sight of Chanyeol. 

“I just want to talk,” Chanyeol explains softly. There's tugging at Jongdae’s chest, but he squashes the feeling down as best as he can.

“About what? I think we’ve said enough,” Jongdae retorts in a facade of anger. But in reality, he feels his thoughts of abandonment and fear threatening to overwhelm him again. 

It takes Jongdae a great deal of self control not to break down in tears. 

“You cheated and broke my trust. That’s all there is to it.”

“Then why haven’t you requested a divorce?” 

Silence. And that’s all Chanyeol needs. “I made a horrible mistake, I know. I hurt and pained you in unimaginable ways.” He steps forward, close enough to touch Jongdae but still a comfortable distance. Jongdae feels his chest suddenly grow right and warm. 

“I’m sorry, I was terrible to you. And I don’t know how you could ever possibly forgive me for the things I did.”

“You really were a shitty husband,” Jongdae finally says. Chanyeol winces but nods.

“I just wanted to explain-“

“Please don’t.”

Chanyeol blinks in confusion at Jongdae’s resigned tone. “W-what do you mean?”

Jongdae stares at him, dead in the eye with a sad but determined expression. “You don’t need to explain, because there’s nothing to explain. There’s no excuse for you cheating, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol is rendered speechless by Jongdae’s knife like words. Every explanation, or excuse, flies out the window as Chanyeol can do nothing but lock eyes with his husband. 

The tension fills the silent room, the atmosphere stagnant. “I still love you,” Jongdae confesses once more. But unlike before, there is no desperation in his voice, only resigned truth. “But I know you didn’t love me as nearly as much as I did.”

“I never realized how much I needed you until you left me.” Chanyeol’s confession strikes a hole in Jongdae’s heart as a single thought rings in his mind.

Even though Jongdae loves Chanyeol, it wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t enough. Not for Chanyeol anyways.

“I wish you would have realized that from the start of our marriage.” 

Words fall flat from their lips, as the conversation lulls to a tense stop. The hope that he’s carried so fiercely in Jongdae’s chest fizzles out. Standing here, in front of Chanyeol, makes Jongdae realize how much pain and grief he’s been through.

“I don’t want to get a divorce with you.” Jongdae’s statement has Chanyeol perking up just the slightest. But then Jongdae continues. “But I’m not ready to be around you again. Not yet.”

“So,” Chanyeol struggles to speak, frowning slightly. “What do you want to do?”

Jongdae bites his lower lip in thought, looking down at the ground. He’s been wrestling with such a question for a long time, but he thinks it’s for the best. “I want more time to think about everything, away from you.” He looks up, eyes wide with raw honesty. 

He sees pain in Chanyeol’s face, but it’s nothing compared to the feelings he’s endured for this long. His husband exhales deeply, hands tightening at his sides. 

“Ok, I’ll do anything you want.”

Chanyeol’s agreement puts a smile on Jongdae’s face, the first one throughout the entire conversation. Wordlessly, he points to the door and Chanyeol steps out of the house obediently. Before he leaves, he turns back to Jongdae one last time, sadness and acceptance in his eyes.

“Then, what are we right now?” Chanyeol asks quietly.

Jongdae pauses, his hand on the doorknob, as he thinks about the question. “For now,” he says slowly, “Just acquaintances. And then we’ll see what happens then.”

“Acquaintances,” Chanyeol repeats slowly. He nods once, and musters up a small smile. “I promise to make it all up to you, one day.”

The flash of determination and fond stubbornness in Chanyeol’s voice has Jongdae unconsciously smiling. Here is the part of his husband he missed. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jongdae says with finality. He closed the door softly, gently, with one last small smile at his husband. Before the door clicks shut, he hears Chanyeol say quietly,

“Good bye then, Jongdae.”

Jongdae leans his forehead against the door, breathing deeply. The heavy feeling in his chest is gone now, and his heart feels oddly light. Perhaps this is what they needed, some time. A break to fix their flaws and a break to let Jongdae recover from his broken heart. 

Jongdae feels an odd sense of freedom. 

He steps away from the door, unshed tears brimming in his eyes, as he looks out of the window to see an empty front yard.

“Good bye, Chanyeol.”

\----

_ A Few Years Later… _

A heart can take much time to mend. Jongdae knows this all too well. It’s been a few years since Chanyeol walked away from him and his marriage, back at Jongin’s home. And Jongdae has spent every moment since then, nursing his wounded pride and emotions with the help from his family and his friends.

A heart can take a while to heal, but Jongdae is mending steadily. Every day seems to be looking up, and there’s a light feeling in his chest.

He’s happy, even though he feels the slightest incomplete.

Sometimes, when Jongdae glances at his dresser and feels a tad nostalgic, he’ll open up his drawer and take out a velvet ring box. He’ll open it with trembling fingers, look at the ring inside, and feel memories swirling all around his head. But he has learned to close the box, and leave it for some other time. When he can look at his wedding ring with feelings of acceptance, and not pain. 

It’s taken this long, but Jongdae has reached that point.

“You moved on,” Baekhyun told him one day, when Jongdae shared his feelings. “That’s good. It means your heart feels much better.”

“Even if I think I still love him?”

Baekhyun hesitated at that question. “Are you sure it’s love, not just some unwarranted fondness?” He responded slowly. 

Jongdae blinked at the question, curiosity in his mind. “I think I’d have to talk to him to find out,” Jongdae says finally. 

It’s on a sunny day when it happens. Jongdae is walking towards one of his favorite cafes, eager to buy a cup and head to work, when he hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Jongdae?”

Jongdae turns around in surprise, and can’t stop the small smile at the sight of the person. “Oh, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says lightly in greeting. “Hi.”

“Um, hi,” Chanyeol says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He’s still as tall and handsome as ever, Jongdae notes. He seems much more reserved and careful. “I-it’s good to see you again.”

“You too!” Jongdae is still smiling kindly. He takes sympathy on the way Chanyeol looks a bit nervous. “You look good, I hope you’ve been well.”

“Thanks, I could say the same to you.”

There’s a little awkward pause with Chanyeol looking mildly anxious and Jongdae still smiling that small, fond look. Jongdae feels no pain in his chest, only a small flutter. Like how one would feel at seeing a friend after so long.

“Well, I better get a move on,” Jongdae says, breaking the silence. “I’ll see you around then, Chanyeol.” He beams once before turning around and making his way. But he’s stopped by a small “Wait!” and he glances behind him.

“D-Do you want-” Chanyeol stutters slightly in his hesitation-”to grab a coffee sometime? My treat.” 

Jongdae gazes back at him silently. He sees the earnest look in Chanyeol’s eyes, the same look that has never failed to make Jongdae’s chest grow warm. 

He smiles, and nods.

Something soars in his chest.

“Ok.”

_ Fin _

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to all Chanyeol stans, honestly I never intended this to be ChanChen, I just wanted Angst. But then I did a random name generator and it came to be Chanyeol and I was like rip


End file.
